Poison Ivy & Clark Kent
by 10tonsoffun
Summary: Dr Pamela Isley tries to hide her alter-ego, Poison Ivy, from journalist Clark Kent. But when she tries to seduce him, she finds out that Clark Kent is not just any journalist. Warning: Graphic sexual content, high maturity rating.


Poison Ivy & Clark Kent

Was it her biggest scientific breakthrough ever? Probably, but it did not feel like it. Nevertheless, Dr Pamela Lillian Isley had done what she set out to do. Or rather, what the director of the laboratory had wanted her to do. As soon as the rumour started spreading around the lab, her boss had taken her into his office and demanded she started doing tests immediately to prove if it was really true. The rumour of course, was that Dr Isley herself was immune to poisons and toxins.

While she did not know how this had become known to her colleagues, Isley could confirm, even before her experiments started, that she was in fact immune to all natural poisons and toxins. And now, having done her experiments and written her paper, she also had scientific proof. When the rumour started spreading, she was worried that someone had learned about her alter-ego, but the name Poison Ivy, as she was exclusively known in certain circles, had not been uttered once in the lab. Still, she was worried that this scientific 'discovery' would lead anyone with a functional brain and a little bit of knowledge about the criminal underworld to connect the dots and figure out that the red-headed villain Poison Ivy was the same person as the young botanist Pamela Isley.

In fear of having her cover blown, she had tried to downplay the significance of her experiments in front of her boss. But the lab director did not get to where he was without the ability to recognise major scientific breakthroughs. He congratulated her again and again, held her up as an example to follow in front of all her colleagues, and, worst of all, invited the press to inform them of the special individual in his staff.

The press… Pamela should have figured out that they would be involved. After all, she was claiming to have a spectacular ability that no other human being had ever come close to demonstrating.

She was pacing her office nervously, weighing her options. She could just run away. Maybe she could become Poison Ivy for good. She was afraid that if she stayed and actually talked to the press, that her secret identity would be revealed within a few days. She was almost jealous of her friend Harley, whose underworld identity already seemed to have melded with her 'civilian' identity. Harley, of course, might just be too psychologically unstable to recognise what had happened to her. Her complete devotion to her horrendous 'Puddin' certainly suggested a severe lack of judgment.

There was a knock on her office door, and Pamela took a few deep breaths and tried to decide if she should sit or stand. She decided on a compromise, leaning against her desk.

"Yes," she called.

The door opened and one of the lab assistants popped her head in. "Mr Kent from the Daily Planet is here to see you, Dr Isley."

She nodded, picking up a pen from the desk to casually place it in the breast pocket of her lab coat. "Send him in."

The anxiety of having her identity revealed by this journalist made her miss the pocket, and the pen dropped on the floor and rolled underneath the desk.

"Shit!" she cursed and dropped down on all fours, reaching under the desk to find it. That, of course, was when Mr Kent entered the office.

She spun her head around and looked back up at her guest who had stopped in the doorway and was looking at her with an amused look.

"Lovely…" he said, and for a moment she thought that he was complimenting her ass, which, lab coat or not, she was presenting quite obviously, "…to meet you," he finished.

"Got ya," she said, wrapping her fingers around the pen. Blushing, she jumped back on her feet and held the pen up in front of Kent's face in an effort to justify why she was crawling around on the floor. "I dropped this," she said.

The journalist, still looking at her with an amused look on his face, nodded slowly. Clark Kent was a tall man with dark hair, a strong jaw and black-rimmed glasses. Pamela thought he looked somewhat familiar, but she was certain she had never met this man before. She was not one of those scientists who couldn't wait to talk to the media about her research.

Kent extended his hand. "Nice to meet you, Dr Isley," he said, and she picked up a hint of a most peculiar accent that she was unable to immediately relate to any particular region or country on Earth. She shook his outstretched hand, noticing an unusually strong grip.

"Welcome to Gotham EcoLabs, Mr Kent," she said, offering him a seat in front of her desk, while going around it to sit in her own chair behind it.

"Thank you," Kent said politely, looking at the hundreds of plants, many of them lethally poisonous, that were scattered in pots around her office. He pulled out a small recording device from his pocket and placed it on the table. He also produced a small notebook and a pen.

She looked nervously down at the recording device that he had placed on her desk. On top of it was the logo of Wayne Enterprises, obviously. Everything from the hand dryers in the bathrooms to the lab computers were from Wayne Enterprises.

"I trust that you are okay with me recording you, Doctor?" Kent asked. "I can take notes by hand if you prefer it, but I'd like to stay focused on our conversation."

She nodded hesitantly, and Kent leaned back in his chair, allowing his device to keep recording.

"Just one question," Pamela said. "How come a journalist from Metropolis is covering this?"

"Oh, we have an international audience, Dr Isley," Kent explained. "And this is an important discovery, well worth the trip. I am sure you would agree."

She nodded in understanding. Internally, she was now completely convinced that this article would lead to some of this 'international audience' seeing the connection between Dr Isley and Poison Ivy. She had to prevent Mr Kent from printing anything about her special ability.

"Shall we get started?" he asked, biting the end of his pen and checking his notes.

Pamela suddenly rose from her chair. "I'm going to make you tea," she said and hurried over to the kettle in the corner of her office.

Clark Kent, who must have been thinking that she was behaving awfully strange, was looking at her patiently, still biting softly on his pen, when she returned with two steaming cups. She placed the cup in front of him and sat back down in her own chair.

"Cheers," she said and had a sip from her own cup, hoping it would prompt him to drink.

Kent picked up the cup and drank, and she looked at him expectantly. He would start feeling drowsy almost immediately. A minute later, he would fall asleep for, judging on his height and weight, three hours. When he woke up again, he would have trouble remembering anything that had happened in the last few days. Her tea was laced with exactly the same poison, but of course she was immune to its effects.

The seconds went by, and Clark Kent had not reacted as he was supposed to. He was happily sipping on his tea, waiting on her to indicate that she was ready to begin the interview.

She put down her own tea cup, and Kent took it as a sign to ask his first question.

"Let's start off nice and easy," he said. "What is your favourite plant, Dr Isley?"

"Ivy," she answered automatically, and almost slammed her head into the desk. She might as well just give him a Poison Ivy business card. Clark Kent seemed relatively intelligent. Surely, he would make the, now, rather obvious connection between her two identities.

Having no idea why the poisoned tea had not worked, she decided to deploy a new defense mechanism that she and Harley had installed in her office. With a push of a button underneath her desk, a small amount of very dangerous spores were released into the office through the ventilation system. She, of course, would not be affected, but Mr Kent would be paralysed in a matter of seconds.

She noticed how his nostrils flared a few times. The spores had found their way to his system. Then he raised one of his eyebrows and looked back at Pamela. To her surprise, he wasn't yawning and trying to focus on her through half-lidded eyes. Instead, he smiled and winked at her.

Then he said something that nearly made her fall off her chair.

"That's not going to work on me, Dr Isley," he said, far too relaxed. "Or should I say 'Ivy'?"

She immediately rose from her chair, and so did he, with lightning speed.

"Who are you?" she hissed, looking around the office for a weapon, seeing as he was apparently unaffected by her attempts to poison him.

"Someone who's worried about your work," he replied. "And I'm not talking about your day job here at the labs."

She had a closer look at the tall man with the glasses. He certainly seemed familiar, but she could not remember where she might have seen him before.

"Have we met before?" she asked.

"No," he replied, watching her every move intently.

"Well, don't worry yourself about my work, Mr Kent," she said. "Who do you think you are? The Batman?"

Clark Kent snorted. "No, certainly not.

She tried to walk around her desk, but Kent stepped in front of her. "Please, have a seat, Doctor."

She tried to push past him, but she might as well have been trying to smash through the brick wall. Kent did not move and inch, and when she placed her hands on his broad chest to push him, he felt as hard as steel. Eventually, she stopped trying to get past him, but she did not sit down either.

Kent was still looking at her with a small, amused smile. She did not appreciate it.

She only had one weapon left, but it was perhaps her most powerful one. Ever since becoming Poison Ivy, Pamela had been much more in touch with her own sexuality and discovered a seductive nature that she had never known she possessed.

Slowly, she removed her lab coat, revealing a short skirt, black stockings and a shirt that, if she was honest, had absolutely nothing to do in a biochemical laboratory. While pulling off the lab coat, she discretely managed to unbutton the shirt a little more, presenting Mr Kent with an irresistible cleavage. She could tell from the movement of his eyes that she had found a weapon that Kent was not immune to. He was, after all, just a man.

Before becoming Poison Ivy, Pamela would never have dressed like this, not even underneath her lab coat, but since developing her alter-ego, she had embraced her sexuality and learned of the power she held over most men. She just hoped that this power extended to the mysterious Clark Kent.

She sat down on the edge of her desk, making sure that her skirt would ride up her thigh just enough to reveal the laced top of her stockings and a thin strip of her pale inner thigh. Kent swallowed hard, and Pamela smirked. Even he had his weaknesses.

Clark Kent was clearly not just a journalist. But she was still unsure whether she should consider him an actual enemy or not. He had not done anything to harm her yet, but he knew the true identity of Poison Ivy, making him an obvious threat. Besides, he had her trapped in her office. Whether he was friend or foe, she had to admit that there was something awfully enticing about his calm demeanour, his blue eyes and the way he spoke. She could not help but feel turned on when he noticeably stole a glance at her cleavage.

"What are you really here for, _Clark_?" she asked.

He immediately picked up on her use of his first name.

"I'm here to discuss your future, _Pamela_ ," he answered.

She narrowed her eyes at him and took a few step closer, swaying her hips as seductively as her high heels allowed. She could have sworn she saw Clark swallowing hard. A little bit of his stoic façade was crumbling, but she doubted anyone not as practiced in the art of seduction as she would have even noticed. She, however, did notice. She also paid close attention to the bulge that had appeared on the front of his trousers and how his eyes were blinking with a slightly higher frequency than before.

"My future?" she asked, stopping right in front of him. There was no reason to pretend with this guy. He already knew everything about her abilities and her alter-ego. "Why are you so concerned about my future?"

He looked her up and down and the hunger in his eyes gave her a warm feeling inside. He was actually very attractive, she thought. Before she knew it, she had her arms around his neck and her lips on his. Clark seemed surprised at first, but when she ran her tongue along his lips, he opened up and started to kiss her back. He placed a hand on her lower back to pull her closer.

Pamela moaned into his mouth when she felt his hard bulge press against her. She loved how she affected him, but she had to admit that she was just as turned on herself. This, the fact that she was getting so worked up herself, was not part of her seductive persona. She was supposed to stay calm and collected and make sure that her victims were seduced into submission.

Clark's tongue danced furiously with hers, until he pulled back his head, sucking on her bottom lip as he did. Not surprisingly at this point, the powerful toxin in her lipstick didn't affect him either. The fact that he apparently shared her immunity scared her, but Pamela also found it incredibly sexy for some reason.

Clark's hands, that had been resting on the small of her back, slid down and cupped her buttocks, squeezing them tightly. She responded by wrapping one of her legs around him while he was kissing her neck, making small growling noises as he nibbled at the soft skin above her collarbone. She tossed her head back, exposing her neck completely. She loved the way it felt when he licked and bit her softly. Clark made another growling noise, and she melted against his body and made a whimpering noise of her own.

She wrapped her other leg around him so she was only held up by his firm grip on her ass. Clark easily lifted her up until her breasts were right in front of his face. Through her shirt and her bra, he started both kissing and biting her boobs, and she found herself wishing the fabric separating her nipples from his mouth would disappear.

Pamela, who was now resting against Clark's body with her pelvis just above his bulge, started to grind against him, enjoying the friction between his covered erection and her centre.

Clark carried her over to the desk and after a sharp intake of air he blew all of her papers off the surface and laid her down gently. She giggled, despite the fact that he had just mixed up all her papers. He stood above her, looking down at her as she started to writhe seductively on top of the desk, running her hands down her body. She unbuttoned her shirt slowly, enjoying how his breath hitched for every centimetre of skin she revealed. Finally, the shirt came off with his help, and without her noticing anything, he had removed her bra as well. Her freed breasts made him breathe even faster, and when he reached out and grabbed both of them, she felt how her nipples instantly hardened at his touch.

"Oh my," she panted, leaning into his palms, filling them with her soft mounds. Clark eagerly squeezed them. He was being careful with her, she could tell. But she wanted him to be rougher. He leaned forward and took one of her nipples into his mouth. His tongue flicked her nipple a few times and his teeth grazed against it, making it incredibly hard. He was about to pull away his mouth, but she grabbed the back of his neck and held him in place. Clark responded by sucking as much of her breast as possible into his mouth. The suction felt incredibly good, and Pamela arched her back to increase the sensation. She could feel that he was sucking hard enough to bruise the soft skin around the nipple, but she only wanted him to suck harder.

While he was occupied with her boobs, Pamela's hand travelled south, underneath her skirt and she felt, not surprisingly, that she was soaking wet, to the point where her panties were almost actually dripping. Clarks' fingers followed hers until he also arrived at the soaked silk. He immediately stopped sucking on her breast and pulled back his head, looking down at her with a look of excitement on his face.

"You're so wet," he whispered hoarsely.

She responded by biting her bottom lip and grabbing his hand with her small fingers. With a firm grip, she ran his fingers back and forth across her damp underwear, rubbing the moisture onto him. Still holding on to his wrist, she brought his hand up to her mouth, where she first gave his fingers a few licks, before taking his index and middle finger into her mouth. She briefly sucked on the two digits, finding the taste of her own excitement extremely arousing. She then pushed his fingers deeper into her mouth until her gag reflex started to resist.

When she finally released Clark's fingers and he slowly pulled them back out of her mouth, they were drenched in her spit. She quickly kicked off her heels and pulled down her skirt and her panties, leaving her in just her stockings. Clark looked down her naked body and the growling sound escaped from his throat again. She spread her legs, and he audible gasped at the sight of her wet pussy. It was beckoning him to touch it, and she was starting to feel a strong need to have him inside her.

Clark wasted no time sliding his spit-covered fingers inside her, and she moaned loudly, forgetting anything about the neighbouring offices. The feeling of his fingers inside her made her shiver, and she rolled her hips to guide him to the most pleasurable spots. Clark leaned down, and while still sliding his fingers in and out of her, began to lick her clit.

"Holy shit!" she gasped, as his tongue flicked her sensitive little button. "Don't stop, don't stop!"

He didn't stop, but continued to lick her pussy while fingering her. She could feel a strange pressure deep inside her, and it felt like she was burning red hot between her legs. Her clit was throbbing, and she was suddenly aware that she needed to be filled completely. With more than just his fingers.

She yanked on his tie and pulled until his face was right in front of hers. He stared back into her eyes.

"I want you to fuck me!" she whispered huskily and started to undo the tie.

Clark quickly got rid of his shoes and trousers while Pamela undid the buttons of his shirt. When they were both naked, and she was sitting on the edge of her desk, she looked down at his cock. It was hard and significantly bigger than anything she had ever had before. She hoped she would be able to take it.

She pushed against his broad chest, so she could sit down on her knees in front of him. Her small hand grabbed the base of his cock, and she slowly licked the entire length of the shaft several times, while keeping eye contact with Clark. She could feel his cock twitching in her hand and against her tongue, and then, suddenly, she took him into her mouth, deep and hard.

"Oh, aww, oh…" Clark groaned as more and more of his cock disappeared into Pamela's mouth. Her gag reflex begged her to remove the foreign object from her throat, but Pamela managed to go a little deeper still. Clark groaned again as she gagged hard on his cock. Pamela enjoyed the voluntary asphyxiation, and she was fingering herself while filling her mouth with his cock.

She finally pulled her head back, revealing a cock that was completely covered in spit. Long strands connected the end of his cock with her lips. Clark, who was holding her red hair out of her face, was looking down at her affectionately, and she immediately had a burning desire to bring him even more pleasure. She sucked in the strings of spit until she reached his cock again. Slowly, she circled her tongue around the rim of the head, and Clark gave an involuntary jerk as she licked this sensitive spot.

After sucking on his cock for a few more minutes, she stood up again and reversed back to the desk, holding his cock to make sure that he would follow. She laid down with her ass just hanging of the desk. Clark stood between her legs, looking down at her inviting wetness. She wanted him inside her immediately. She had a very intense need to be filled by him right away. It felt like the world was going to end if she did not get what she wanted.

"Please, fuck me," she moaned. Within seconds, he had positioned himself at her entrance. She could tell that she was very wet, and she had lubricated his cock herself, but she was still surprised to feel how completely he filled her.

She took a deep breath as he was fully sheathed inside her. For a few seconds, she just wanted to stay there and savour the relief of finally having him inside her. When he slowly began thrusting, she grabbed the edge of the desk firmly, as she felt him slide in and out of her. The friction against her inner walls was immediately intense, and she enjoyed the feeling of her pussy tightening, almost pushing his cock out a little bit, only to be expanded as he came back in. She started playing with her nipples as he was fucking her, and she could already feel an orgasm slowly building up.

Clark alternated between long, gliding thrusts and quick stabs, and she rolled her hips to make sure that he was hitting all her favourite spots.

"I want you to fuck me from behind," she said, almost commanded, and Clark pulled out of her. She immediately felt empty. She needed him back inside her.

She turned over and got up on all fours on top of the desk. Wiggling her ass in Clark's face, she bent down, so she was offering him the best possible access.

Before long, she had his cock back inside her pussy, and she was moaning loudly, definitely too loudly for her colleagues in the neighbouring offices to ignore it. She would be getting some weird looks in the cantina during the following weeks. She loved the feeling of getting fucked from behind, so she could not help herself.

"Oh yeah!" she moaned at a particularly satisfying thrust.

"SMACK!" she felt Clark's hand coming down across her ass.

"Oh yeah, spank me harder!" she moaned, and Clark slapped her even harder.

"I… Have… Been… A… Bad… Girl!" she said, managing just one word between each thrust.

"Oh yeah?" he panted, smacking her ass again.

"Mhmmm," she moaned. "Put a finger in my ass!"

She looked back and saw him lick on a finger. Then she felt his finger circling her asshole a few times. It felt great to have her ass stimulated like that while he was fucking her pussy. Then he was softly applying pressure to her ass, and she moaned even louder. She was so incredibly tight, even for just his finger. Eventually, she managed to relax, and Clark's finger slowly slipped inside her ass.

"Oh yeah!" she panted, pushing her ass back towards him, making both his finger and his cock penetrate her deeper.

Clark increased the pace until Pamela was once again getting close to her climax. At some point, she was not sure when, he had slipped another finger into her ass, increasing the pleasure for her. He continued to fuck her harder and harder, and Pamela could feel her orgasm building until it finally crashed over her like a wave. Her legs trembled so violently that she nearly felt off the table, and she could feel herself tightening around his cock. Her bliss lasted between five and ten seconds, but she was not sure. She had lost track of time. He was still, holding onto her with his cock resting inside her, and his fingers getting ready to penetrate her ass even deeper.

When her orgasm eventually subsided, she pushed back against him, indicating that she wanted him to fuck her some more. But her clit was very sensitive. Luckily, she had something else in mind.

"Will you fuck me in the ass?" she asked. "Please?"

Clark watched as she spread her cheeks, widening his access to her winking asshole. "I am ready for you," she said.

While she definitely wanted him to fuck her in the ass, it was proving difficult. There was nothing she wanted more in that moment than to feel his cock in her asshole, but she was very tight, and he was big. It took some time, but he eventually managed to get in.

She moaned, taking short quick breaths as she adjusted to his size and he slowly started to push back and forth.

"Oh, your cock is so big," she moaned as she felt him begin to pick up the pace. It was very, very tight, but also very pleasurable.

As she relaxed, his thrusting became deeper and deeper, faster and faster. She looked back at him and saw that his glasses had fallen off. Without his glasses, she immediately recognised him. It all made sense. That was why she thought he looked familiar, and that was why he hadn't been affected by any of her poisons. She gasped quietly. He was Superman! Superman was fucking her in the ass!

She had run into Superman on several occasions. She hated him! Almost as much as Batman. He always interfered with Poison Ivy's business. But now, she could not help but feel incredibly turned on by the fact that she was actually having sex with Superman. Clark, who in his thrusting didn't seem to have noticed that his glasses had come off, kept pounding into her ass.

"Yes!" she moaned, when she felt his cock starting to throb violently. He was about to cum. She quickly pushed him away from her and sat down on her knees on the floor. While holding on to the back of his legs, she started sucking him hard. She wanted his cum. What if swallowing Superman's cum could give her some of his powers? She greedily sucked him, taking as much as she could into her mouth. Then she felt his body stiffen and his cock started to throb even more violently than before. Then she felt a stream of hot cum shooting into the back of her throat. In her surprise, some of it dripped down her chin and landed on her boobs. With her thumb, she scooped it all up and wiped it off on her tongue. Checking that she had located every last drop, she swallowed his load and smiled up at him.

"Hello, Superman," she said, licking her lips.

He looked around for his glasses, which were on the floor next to Pamela's desk.

"Hello, Ivy," he replied, quickly regaining his composure.

"Is this how you punish villains now?" she asked, kissing the tip of his cock.

"Actually, I came here to talk you into joining my side," he said.

"I don't think so," she replied, sucking on her fingers individually. "It's so much fun being bad."

He looked down at Pamela who was licking his cock to see if she could get a few more precious drops out of him.

"I know your true identity," he said, groaning softly as she sucked hard.

"And I know yours," she said, slapping his cock against her tongue a few more times, just for fun.

"A truce then?" he suggested.

She smirked up at him. "Honestly, Clark, or Superman, or whatever, don't you think that I know that you have a lot more to lose here than I do? Your true identity revealed would be the biggest news story of this century."

He looked down at her with a worried look. She knew why. He was afraid that he would have to kill her to keep her quiet. Superman did not kill, not if he could help it.

"I have a proposition for a truce," she said, kissing his cock a final time before standing up. "You don't tell anyone who I am, and you stay out of our business, and tell your friend Batman to do the same, and I will keep your identity hidden."

He shook his head. "I have no control over Batman."

She shrugged. "Fair enough, then you stay out of our business. Batman we can handle."

He nodded slowly, obviously deciding that Batman would have to deal with these Gotham City villains on his own. Giving that responsibility away to the caped crusader was worth his continued anonymity.

She smiled, amazed at the power she held over him. "Oh, and one more thing," she added, as she softly raked her nails down his chest, "it will take a good fucking like this on a regular basis to keep my mouth shut."

He gasped as her hand reached and gripped his cock firmly. He was hardening again. "Now, that I can do," he whispered, and Pamela licked her lips expectantly.


End file.
